Black Valentine
by Ripple237
Summary: After the events of the 74th Hunger Games, Panem's leaders decide to host a very different Quarter Quell to keep the Capitol and all of Panem distracted. This year, tributes will be paired up together by a Matchmaker to see if romance will blossom in the Arena. However, if one half of the couple dies, the other will die as well. Till death do us part after all. A SYOT
1. The Quell

**Guess who's back? Jk literally all the people who knew me aren't on ff anymore (except for like 3 or 4) **

**It's been like 5 years. **

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The world holds its breath. Everyone has been waiting for this, for this moment. 75 years in the making, over a thousand children dead, millions entertained. The Quarter Quell. Every 25 years a twist is thrown into The Hunger Games. Business as usual.

Except now, everything has changed. Tensions are rising and sparks are flying. Panem is in more danger of falling apart than ever before, and who is to thank? Two measly children from District 12. The coal mining district. Please. The situation could not be more ridiculous. But wait. There's more.

It's love. Fake love. Poor star-crossed lovers from the outermost district have ignited the fires of rebellion. It's not even real. It's just a show, a show of survival. But isn't that what we're all doing in some capacity? Things aren't making a lot of sense, but that is the world after all.

People want love? People want romance? They think it's a symbol of rebellion? No. Love is nothing more a joke, a show, a charade for people to try to get through their meaningless lives. And yet, here we are. Indeed. Here we are.

My leather seat was getting cold. The fires of rebellion would not warm me and they would certainly not engulf Panem. What the people need is a distraction, and what better distraction than the Hunger Games. Except, this time, the people get what they want. They'll get their love story, but they won't get their rebellion. They wouldn't last 2 seconds without this government. People always want what they can't have, and yet, when they get it, nothing good comes from it.

Nevertheless, we must persist. And so, the 75th Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell, must begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. It was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now, on this the 75th Anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell."

"As a reminder of the Capitol's overwhelming generosity and dedication to the prosperity of the Districts despite their actions against it, the male and female tributes will be reaped under special selection of a Matchmaker, who will single-handedly choose two tributes between the ages of 16 and 18 to compete in the Games."

"The Matchmaker's responsibility will be to find two tributes who are romantically compatible, and the two tributes will then form a Match within the Games."

"A Match of tributes will compete in the Games as one unit. As such, both tributes will be allowed to win the Hunger Games should they be the last ones standing. Conversely, if one tribute within a Match dies, their partner will die as well."

"This is to serve as a reminder that the Capitol and Districts both make up Panem and will survive together, or not at all."

"United we stand, and divided we fall."

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**Well Ladies, Gents, and nonbinary friends, here we go! Before I head out, here's just a couple important clarification things for the way this syot will work. **

**Firstly, yes, LGBTQ tributes are welcome and encouraged! I'm gay myself so I would love love love some solid representation. Information regarding this in particular will be on my profile. **

**Secondly, yes, this Games is more like a Bachelor type thing. Basically, tributes will be paired up within their Districts based on how romantically compatible they are! This means that I will be taking characters and developing various romances with them. It is sort of like taking the concept and popularity of Katniss and Peeta's relationship in the Games to another extreme. It is a little bit over the top tonal wise but I really want to do this. **

**Thirdly, there will be a few more twists with the format of the Games that will be revealed later on. For now, everything that you need is in this chapter, but I will put some additional information and suggestions on the tribute form. The form will be on my profile and should be easy to find! **

**Finally, the tribute form and additional clarifications and rules will be on my profile under the Black Valentine section. **

**I'm really excited for this Games and I'm super inspired and ready to write! **

**What did you think of the twist? **

**Do you have any suggestions, predications, or otherwise thoughts? **

**Thanks for reading and happy submitting!**


	2. A House Call

**Hello! Thanks for the reviews and submissions so far! Here's another a little prologue **

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**Eros Creed, 32**

_**The Capitol, 6 Months before the Quarter Quell Announcement**_

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A brilliant fire blazed with luminous might in the fireplace of Eros Creed's home. He had made out well for himself, all things considered. And there were a lot of things to consider.

It was a certainly a mansion, but a little smaller compared to the extravagant homes that the wealthiest citizens of the Capitol so profoundly enjoyed. The predominant material of the home was wood, directly from the forests of District 7 itself. There were deep shades, light shades, and all in-between to make the mansion seem ever homier.

Eros liked it a lot. He wasn't sure exactly why. He wasn't an architecture connoisseur by any means, he just enjoyed things that weren't boring. And he certainly was bored. Ever so bored. He spent his days roaming the empty rooms and hallways, lamenting the past, cursing the present, and ignoring the future.

The furniture was minimal, but nice looking. Most of it served to be nothing more than a way to fill space. Chairs, couches, tables, and china cabinets were present at every turn. But perhaps the most notable room, for Eros, was his study or more appropriately, his drinking room.

Empty bottles of various alcohols littered the shelfs and the floor. Eros was a textbook alcoholic and he didn't care. He was a disgraced TV host, why shouldn't he let himself go? Half the Capitol was drugged up most of the time anyway. Being an addict certainly wasn't out of the ordinary, in fact, it was in fashion. Addiction was fashionable, whether it be drugs, shopping, sex, or even things like lies, cheating, and the Hunger Games themselves.

Eros never thought much the Games. He considered them to be cheaply edited audience pandering. There was no nuance. There were no surprises. It was the same old thing every year. Pathetic poor kids get forced to fight to the death in some old ritual as a reminder of a war over 70 years ago? Stupid. Plain stupid.

Many Capitolites shared this opinion, but no one would dare speak it aloud. And even those that thought the Games were a little strange would let themselves fall into the fantasy of it every year. It was easy to get into, and it was so heavily promoted on the airwaves. Eros was resentful of this. There were so many more interesting mediums of entertainment and people wanted to watch a bunch of kids cry while trying to stab each other?

Eros of course had another reason for being so resentful. He had his own show, "Cupid's Arrow." He considered it to be quality entertainment. Eros would moderate dates, set up people with hidden cameras on those dates, and even do live couple's counseling. It was a hoot. People were dramatic and easy to manipulate. Buying into the fantasy of romance wasn't hard when everything else was so meaningless.

Eros Creed did not believe in love. He believed that people would do everything they could to find escape from the knowledge of their own existence, and that meant manipulating other people and even themselves to feel something other than fear.

Naturally, this was why Eros drank. Not only was he hopelessly depressed, he'd also lost his own form of coping. "Cupid's Arrow" was important to him. He played the role of all-knowing, caring, good guy who just wanted the best for everyone. And he was a heartthrob. Women wanted him, men wanted him, everyone wanted something to do with him. And yet, Eros didn't really want much to do with them. He had fun, he had sex, he did the lot. Nothing really did anything for him, but he ignored those feelings and let himself into the fantasy of desire. But his rise also came with a fall.

The fall in question was devastating. All the public really knew was that Eros was involved rather intimately with someone. This was cause for great gossip and discussion, which greatly bothered Eros behind closed doors. People wanted to know who the proclaimed expert on love was involved with. They never did get their answer.

What they did get was a slow crash and burn of Eros Creed's career. It started with little things. An offhand comment here, a curse there. Then it was slurring words, stumbling across the stage, ranting maniacally, and vomiting onto the studio audience. "Cupid's Arrow" was cancelled and Eros was disgraced just like that.

He tried to stay relevant with appearances at parties and television events here and there, but eventually his name found its way off the guest lists. People forgot about him. They forgot about "Cupid's Arrow" and they forgot about love, or at least, Eros's definition of love.

People quickly turned back to the main event of Capitol TV, The Hunger Games. Eros quickly found resentment in it, and stopped watching all together. He didn't care about who killed who, who was really hot, and whose guts had been torn out by giant cats. He roamed his house and drank and drank to forget. Then came the 74th Hunger Games and Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

They changed everything. Suddenly, the Capitol was obsessed with love again. After all, what else could compel two teenagers to want to take their own lives? Rebellion? Certainly not.

Eros knew better. He smelled their bullshit from a mile away. He wanted to speak about them, but no one ever contacted him for his opinion on the lovers. His image in the public eye was gone. This development only made him more enraged. While everyone was trying to get in the studio for the Victor interview and Games screenings, Eros was muttering to himself and vomiting on a particularly nice purple rug.

In just a few years he had went from one of the top people in the Capitol to a worthless nobody. He might as well be Haymitch Abernathy. If _only_ he was Haymitch, he often thought to himself. At least Haymitch had relevance again.

Now Eros Creed laid on the floor of his study, booze in hand. He laughed to himself, wondering if he should maybe try to have a threesome with Finnick Odair and some ultra-rich Capitol girl again. Anything would do. Anything.

Just then, a doorbell shook throughout mansion, causing the various bottles to jump and jitter, clanging together.

Eros groaned. He certainly wasn't presentable. His hair was greasy and matted, his beard was out of control and he was only dressed in a stained white undershirt and a pair of tight velvet underwear.

He had just decided that he wasn't going to answer the door when the doorbell rang again. Eros covered his ears, trying to drown out the noise of the clanging bottles.

When the doorbell rang for the third time, he had no choice but to get up. He stood up rather abruptly and had to steady himself before falling back onto the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a groan.

Eros was just coming down the main stairs when the doorbell rang for the fourth time.

"I'm coming!" Eros shouted, his words cutting through the mansion.

He flung his massive front door open and stared into the night. On his doorstep stood a short boy, probably around 19 or so, with slicked black hair with a single curl in the front. His face was young and sculpted, quite attractive.

"Hm?" Eros grunted. The boy's eyes shone with surprise for a moment, and scanned Eros up and down and briefly settled at his groin.

"Ya want an autograph or something?" Eros looked at the boy dead in the face. The boy blushed.

"Uh—no sir! I just have a message for you."

The boy handed Eros a gold colored envelope. A massive wax seal was melted onto it. Eros examined it. It almost seemed to give off a glow. He ran his hands over the wax.

"This is…the President's seal." Just then, Eros noticed the white rose sticking out of the messenger's lapel. His heart dropped.

"What does President Snow want with _me_?"

"Sir, the letter is of the upmost importance and is quite classified. President Snow instructed I give it directly to you, in person."

"Wha?" Eros turned over the golden envelope in his hands.

"Well thanks." Eros stepped backwards and started to close the door.

"Wait!" The boy stuck his foot out to stop the door.

"Mr. Creed, the President asks that you open the letter immediately. I need to take your response directly back to him."

"What, I don't get a second to think about whatever this thing is?"

"Please just read it sir."

Eros reluctantly opened the door wide again. He stared at the wax seal and his heart sank. Whatever warranted a special message from President Snow himself couldn't be good.

He ripped the envelope to shreds and scanned the contents.

"What…are you…are you serious?" He looked back at the boy his eyes widening.

"Very, sir."

"Do I get a choice in the matter?"

"It's an invitation sir."

"But do I do get a choice?"

The boy looked directly at Eros, color starting to form in his pale face. Eros noticed sweat starting to pool on the boy's forehead.

"I guess not," he muttered. "Well, you can tell him I said yes."

The boy let out of small puff of air in relief.

"Wonderful sir! I just need your signature here." The boy produced and a paper, also a striking gold, and a pen.

Eros snatched the pen and quickly signed the document. The boy and Eros then looked at each other once again.

"Well?"

"Right sir, sorry, I'll go now." The boy turned to leave.

"Wait," Eros called. He was just drunk enough. He stepped outside beckoning to the interior.

The boy blushed severely. He glanced around at the empty street and then quickly crossed the threshold of the mansion.

Eros closed the door and smirked to himself.

_Still got it. _

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**Well there we are, the second prologue! I hope y'all actually read it, I know it's a little on the longer side for a prologue but we get to know Eros Creed, our Matchmaker and probably the main character of the story (other than the tributes of course!) **

**I've gotten a couple submissions so far, but of course, I still need a lot more! Form is on my profile! **

**I hope everyone is excited for this story because I'm feeling so fired up for it! One more prologue probably and then hopefully I can get to character intros! So, get creating! **

**Also, I'm a review whore so here's some questions for them:**

**What did you think of Eros Creed, the Matchmaker? **

**What did you think of this chapter as a whole? **


	3. Let's Get This Party Started

**This should be the final prologue and then next chapter will be the tribute list announcements, so keep on submitting! Remember, you are allowed to submit two characters!**

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**Eros Creed, 32**

_**The Capitol, The Night of The Quell Announcement**_

* * *

The night was ablaze, but not with flame. This night, gossip was the spark that spread like wildfire, and Eros Creed was at the center of it.

After months of work and preparation in secret, the Quell was finally revealed to the citizens of Panem. Of course, the Capitol was rife with parties on this eve, but the one to be at was President Snow's. His extravagant manor was the jewel of the evening. High class guests would dress their best, converse, and gossip about what was sure to be another exciting year of Hunger Games.

Eros was exhausted. Snow had entrusted him with the duty of Matchmaker. The Matchmaker was a new Gamemaker position unique to the third Quell, and its job was to match up ideal romantic pairings in each of the 12 districts. Going over the surveillance data of every 16-18-year-old in every district was a daunting task, and Eros was not ready for it at all.

His alcoholism was a cripple to progress, but under the pressure of Snow, he managed to get his job done. For six months Eros had worked with the other Gamemakers on every single little detail of the Games. He had to clean up his act, and so he did.

Following the national broadcast, additional details were released to public which included the Matchmaker and his identity. Eros Creed was suddenly back in the spotlight, and he wasn't sure what he thought about it.

Conversation fluttered about the massive ballroom, and Eros was standing off to the side, a drink already in hand. His beard was now neatly trimmed and he cut a nice figure. He had lost a great deal of weight and soon replaced it with muscle. Eros wore a tight-fitting pink suit and slacks and was blinding at first glance. Just in time for the party, he was back to looking like a heartthrob.

His senses were already starting to go thanks to the bubbling drink in his hand when he heard a shrill voice call out his name.

"Eros! Hey, Eros!"

The voice belonged to Mellona Lares, one of the richest women in Panem and a professional socialite. She was dressed in a striking sheer sapphire garment, with make-up to match. Eros steeled himself for the encounter.

"That would be me, wouldn't it?" He smirked.

"Oh Eros, such a delight. You simply must tell me more about being the Matchmaker…" She emphasized his job title through her teeth.

"Now Mellona, you know I can't talk about all that."

He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear.

"It's…classified." He breathed the word with effortless erotic flare.

Mellona giggled, putting her hand up to her mouth.

"Ohhh Eros…"

She shot a smirk back at him. The two had slept together once upon a time. Eros suspected she felt the same way about it that he did. Sex. It was just sex and nothing more. At a certain level of wealth, pleasure was the only true thing of value. Pleasure was currency, not gold.

"Well you know, why don't we…trade something, hm?"

"Like what?"

"Oh I don't know-" With this, she extended her head to Eros's ear in a flash.

"See that guy in the pure black suit over there." She gestured with her eyes.

"With the beard?"

"That's one. He's Janus Poac, Snow's new Head of Security. The old one choked to death or something. Ever since, he's been lurking about, like, everywhere."

Eros shot a glance at Janus. The two's eyes met for a split second. Eros took a sip from his glass to break the eye contact.

"Well don't stare at him, he's not even that cute, come on." Mellona displayed an impressive eye roll.

"I-um…yeah."

Eros was little unnerved. Since he had taken the job of Matchmaker, he had become increasingly paranoid. Everyone knew what had happened to Seneca Crane. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of the President. Eros had been extra cautious and extra paranoid, and seeing the amount of surveillance just on the Districts alone was enough for him to justify it. Although he would never admit it to himself, he was terrified. Terrified of what might happen to him if he made a mess of things. Janus Poac was merely another object of paranoia now.

"So…what you got for me in return?"

"Huh-"

"Eros, come on, that's how the game works. Tit for tat."

"I never agreed to those terms Mellona."

"We don't agree to a lot a of things, but we still have to face them. Don't we?"

Mellona looked Eros up and down once more, and vanished into the crowd.

"Geez, what did that bitch want?"

Eros turned to a bald man with a similar beard to his own. He was in his late forties but looked ten years younger, probably thanks to Capitol surgery. Then, a tall woman with sharp features melted out of the crowd beside him.

"I don't like her either, but there's no need for such theatrics, Hadrian."

The woman's voice was low, with a slight edge to it that unnerved Eros every time he heard her speak.

"Oh Lucia, out of the lab I see. Were you drawn to my wit and charm or am I just so biologically superior?"

Lucia smiled daggers at Hadrian.

"I saw Mellona over here…and well…"

"You wanted to check on poor little Eros? I'm sure he's handling things just fine." At this, Hadrian slapped Eros on the back with immense force, causing some of Eros's drink to spill from his glass.

"I just wanted to make sure he wasn't taken in by her…charm." Lucia's eyes glinted dangerously.

Eros was terrified of her. She had been the lead scientist on all Mutts for the Games for the past 10 years or so. She was the one to cook up the infamous wolf mutts that tore the boy from 2 to death all night long in the 74th Games. She was cold, calculated, and took a certain glee in her work that sent off alarm bells in Eros's head from the moment he met her.

"Besides, I didn't want any details of the Games compromised. You know that girl has a mouth on her," Lucia continued.

"Boy does she, HEYYO!" Hadrian burst with laughter at his innuendo. Neither Eros or Lucia were impressed.

Hadrian was in charge of the so-called Arena events. Whenever something needed to immediately happen within the Arena, he was the one coordinating it. The previous year, he took great pleasure in singeing Katniss Everdeen to the bone when she was a little too far away from the action. He enjoyed messing with people, but in a much more anarchic way as opposed to Lucia's subtle amusement at cruelty.

Eros had meet both of them years back at parties, but didn't really know who they were until he had to work with them in preparation for the Games. Eros wasn't a Gamemaker by nature, but he quickly understood that some people were. Hadrian and Lucia were two sides of the same coin, and both were exceptionally terrifying.

Lucia opened her mouth in smirk, preparing some retort at Hadrian's expense, when yet anther guest entered their small circle.

"I thought I'd find you two over here," said the new figure.

Nero Namizaki was a man of subtlety. He wore a simple black suit and no accessories. His copper skin stood out against the bleach and modifications of so many of the Capitol's citizens.

"Oh great, the gang's all here," Hadrian said, his eyes darting between the four of them.

"Nero, I honestly didn't think you would show up to this thing. It's a little out of your comfort zone isn't it?" Lucia inquired.

"Unfortunately, it was ordered that we all attend."

"Nero, careful with the o-word."

"Yeah, the new head of security is just over there." Eros pointed to Janus, still standing silently in the corner.

"Oh, he speaks! Eros Creed was never one to be speechless," Hadrian mused.

"Just sharing the info that Mellona freely gave. And no, I didn't tell her anything."

Lucia's expression relaxed at this. Hadrian looked back at Janus.

"Well he looks boring as fuck. Didn't the old one do some rebel bullshit or something?"

"Hadrian," Lucia hissed.

"What, I'm just saying." He shrugged his shoulders in mock apology.

Nero sighed and looked off into space. Nero was also a Gamemaker, the one in charge of designing the environment and landscape of the Arena. He was said to get lost in his work, and always appreciated a challenge. He despised the typical forest arenas, but people liked them for some reason. Eros shared Nero's opinion on that front. Often, the Arena was the deciding factor in whether he watched that year's Games or not.

Eros had enjoyed watching Nero work, much more so than the others. Nero cared deeply about his work, and crafted it to perfection. He was an artist, just working with trees, caves, rivers, and mountains rather than paint and paintbrush. The two of them had worked closely together on the Arena's design because they both wanted the Arena to match the theme of the Quell. Eros provided input on what things and landscapes would be romantically stimulating and also on more logistical things involving the specifics of the Quell twist.

In their time together, Eros had been attracted to Nero, but he soon realized that Nero was not interested in bodily pleasures. Nero was aloof, focused, and somehow serene despite the climate he lived in. Eros was incredibly envious of this.

"It's not a huge deal, but I think it would be better for everyone if we didn't discuss the job security of those working in the Capitol," said a voice.

The new voice cut Eros out of his thoughts. There, standing in front of him, was the Head Gamemaker. Plutarch Heavensbee had the unenviable task of picking up after Seneca Crane's "dispatch."

"Right, uh, sorry…boss." Hadrian looked mildly uncomfortable for the first time that evening.

"Why don't we disperse, we're drawing looks." Plutarch motioned to the other guests around them. People were indeed staring.

"Best idea all night," Lucia murmured.

The group split, leaving Eros standing alone once again. He sighed and watched Plutarch's back disappear into the crowd.

Just then, over by the punch table, something, or more accurately someone, caught his eye. A boy with dark hair, slicked back with a single curl in the front. The boy with the golden envelope, offering Eros the position of Matchmaker in the Quell.

Eros waded his way through the crowd, avoiding stares and people calling his name, inviting him to some god-awful conversation. He approached the punch bowl with a slight stumble. The alcohol was taking its toll.

At this, the two made eye contact. The boy's eyes widened in recognition. The last time the two had met, Eros had looked much worse for wear.

"Hey."

"Hello sir, can I get you anything."

"Huh?"

Eros looked the boy up and down. He was wearing black slacks and a scarlet dress shirt, the typical attire of a server.

"Can I get you something, sir? A refreshment, an appetizer…"

"Wha-no thank you. I-uh."

"Do you require anything else sir?"

The room had started to spin for Eros.

"Uh, bathroom," Eros gulped, feeling nausea rising from his stomach.

"Like now."

The boy's eyes flashed.

"Oh yes, right this way sir!"

Eros followed the boy out of the bathroom and down a particularly ornately decorated hallway. They stopped at a beautiful wooden door.

"Here-"

"Yep, thanks," Eros sputtered as he flung the door open to the bathroom. It was lit with dim lighting and the walls were a beautiful wood color that reminded him of his own home.

He also got well acquainted with the toilet, as he vomited the various appetizers of the evening.

After a couple minutes, the boy called from outside the door.

"Are you alright sir?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine. Much better now actually."

Eros straightened himself up and inspected himself in the wide mirror. His hair was a little out of place, but other than that, he didn't look too bad, especially considering what had just happened. Eros was used to this kind of thing though. He gave his reflection a crooked smile and a thumbs up, and then busted out laughing.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Eros attempted to straighten his hair a bit and then crossed to the door. He opened it and found the boy waiting outside. He leaned in the doorframe and directed his gaze at the boy.

"I never got your name."

"Huh," the boy replied with a hint of surprise.

"Your name. You didn't tell me that night."

"wh-"

"The night we spent together. You never told me."

The boy blushed furiously and looked up and down the hallways nervously. He then stepped into the bathroom, closing the door, leaving he and Eros alone in the bathroom together.

"You…remember me?"

"Well yeah, all things considered, that was a pretty important night in my life. That invitation changed everything. Plus, I got to meet you."

The boy blushed at this, but his eyebrows rose in confusion.

"W-w-Why? Weren't you…"

"Drunk? Oh hell yeah, but I would have had to get all the way to blackout to forget that ass of yours."

The boy turned away, blushing once again. Eros was cringing a little bit at his own flirting. He was out of practice and this scenario was less than optimal, but something drew him to this younger boy and he wasn't sure exactly what.

The boy was silent.

"You ok?" Eros inquired, leaning a little closer to him.

"Huh? Oh, uh…I just…you remembered me."

"Yes, I said that already, tell me something I don't know, like your name."

The boy's face seemed to be bursting with inflections of red and pink.

"I was just…the messenger…"

"Yeah that may be true but-"

"Mr. Creed, I'm a Capitol servant. I serve food, drinks, show people where to go…and…uh…well you know…"

Eros raised his eyebrows.

"I'm just a fucking whore ok! I'm not stupid, I know I'm attractive. I'm like a fucking party favor. I'm just a little added bonus for the upper class of the Capitol. Something pretty to look at. But I'm not just looked at, I'm passed around and touched, and—"

Eros put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yeah, I know."

The boy looked up at him.

"When you came to my doorstep, it was pretty obvious you weren't just a messenger, but hey. You were hot and I was drunk and well…there's something about you."

"Huh?"

"There's something about you, and you just proved my suspicions correctly with that mini outburst."

Eros crossed to the door again and opened it to leave.

"You never did tell me your name."

The boy turned towards him with a look of confusion and something else that Eros couldn't place.

"Sol. Sol Savisea."

"Sol," Eros mused. "Well, I'll see you around. Sol."

With a wink, Eros was gone, leaving Sol standing in the bathroom, utterly perplexed at the events of the evening.

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**Pictures of the characters (faceclaims) will be available on the blog once it's done! So there's the final prologue chapter thing, I'm pretty sure. We get to meet a couple of the Gamemakers and of course more Eros.**

**I've gotten a lot of great submissions so far, so thanks so much guys! It's so nice to have this support.**

**Also, I went ahead and closed a couple Districts just because I can't wait. I need to a get head start on intros so I don't fall into a hiatus trap when winter break ends. Plus I'm pretty happy with a couple of the pairs.**

**That being said, the story is still very much open! I still need a LOT of submissions and such, If you have questions about maybe what kind of tributes I would like at this point, feel free to PM me! Also, you're allowed to submit two tributes so those of you that have already submitted could submit a second…just saying!**

**Review questions!**

**What did you think of the other Gamemakers?**

**What did you think of Eros this chapter?**

**Thoughts on Mellona, Janus, and Sol?**

**Any guesses on the Arena? It's pretty a pretty obvious choice lol**

**That's all for now, hopefully next chapter will be the tribute list! I really want to get moving on tribute intros so I can get a lot done before next semester starts. Thanks all**

**Also, I changed the rating to M so I can have a little more freedom with swearing and adult themes since this story is romance centric (but don't worry, we won't we entering anywhere near smut territory)**


	4. The Valentines

**HAPPY VALENTINES DAY ! Here's the tributes finally, sorry it took so long to get up. **

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's finally time. Time to meet the contestants and Matches of the 75th Hunger Games, the Third Quarter Quell!"

"Let's waste no time in the manner and head straight to our first Match of tributes. As always, we start with District 1, which brings us all the comforts of home.

**Akiara Ito, 16 **

**Junia Allaire, 18 **

"Here we have District 2, which focuses on masonry! Last year, District 2's own Cato just came shy of winning of the Games when he was devoured!

**Spartus Aegis, 17 **

**Eris Thames, 16 **

"District 3, responsible for the best technologies we enjoy here in the Capitol! We haven't really seen any standouts from here except for Beetee Latier so here's hoping they break out of their shell a bit more.

**Luna Martinez, 18 **

**Jade Haskell, 17**

"And here's District 4, home of the ever famous Finnick Odair. Let's see if District 4 can rack up another win!"

**Tahoe Cuero, 18**

**Makara Opras, 17 **

"Ah District 5, responsible for all the power sources in the Capitol. Last year one of their tributes was surprisingly clever and made it to the final days."

**Edison Reyes, 18 **

**Rhaeya Montare, 18**

"District 6 is looking for a better showing this year as both their tributes died in the Bloodbath last year."

**Brent Lutz, 17 **

**Makian "Mako" Lester, 18 **

"District 7, our exporters of paper and wood! Hopefully Johanna Mason can conjure up some more strategies for her tributes this year."

**Zinnia Birchwood, 17 **

**Elijah Skyles, 18**

"And onto District 8, which…uh…has looked better. Anyway, here's the tributes."

**Cyan Vanderbilt, 18 **

**Liliana Rolag, 17 **

"District 9 is often confused with D11 due to their similar exports, so let's see if they can stand out this year."

**Rada Krupin, 16 **

**Arys Schimitt, 17 **

"District 10, the livestock district. No doubt these two have experience with animals."

**Maribelle Dakota, 16**

**Lincoln Everette, 17**

"Here's District 11, home of Thresh who did surprisingly well in last year's Games.

**Oisin Tudor, 18 **

**Virgillo Arroya, 17 **

"And finally, the favorite, District 12, home of the first double win in Hunger Games history. We can't get enough of their star-crossed love and we can't wait to see how they mentor the new pair of potential lovers from District 12. They certainly have a lot to live up to!

**Madge Undersee, 17 **

**Will Barett, 16 **

"Well that's all the Matches for this year! I'm sure we'll all look forward to learning more about them! We'll see you all when they made the historic chariot ride! See you then!"

* * *

**Thanks so much to everyone who submitted! I got so many submissions and honestly I'm so surprised by all the support! Congrats to those who got in. **

**I tried to be democratic with what tributes I accepted so keep that in mind too. **

**For those who didn't get in…I'm really sorry. I got some great characters, but I could only accept 24 and because of the nature of this games, some tributes just didn't vibe with the rest of the cast. I hope you all understand and I'm really sorry. I hope you all submit your characters to other stories so they get a chance to shine! **

**A lot of my tributes have been rejected from other stories too, so I totally understand if you're upset. **

**If you have any concerns or questions about anything, please PM me. I'll be more than happy to answer any questions you may have. **

**ANYWAY, we're finally on track to starting this story! I know the submission process took a while, but I'm hoping I can jump into the story really fast! I'll do my best, but college is suddenly heating up out of nowhere, but I promise I will update and will for sure finish this story. I'm not gonna abandon another syot. **

* * *

**THE BLOG IS UP. I worked really hard on it, so I would really REALLY appreciate a blog review if and when you have the time. I spent hours and hours formatting and making it look nice. And the website making software was so slow **

**So check it out! It has the tributes pictures, quotes and also some extra fun stuff about the side characters! It looks a little wonky on mobile though, so definitely use a computer to look at it if you have access to one. **

**What are your first impressions based on the Blog? please I'm dying to know, I worked so hard on it. **


	5. The Beat of Your Own Drum

**First intros! Here we go**

* * *

**Virgillo Arroya, 17**

**_District 11, a week before the Reapings_ **

* * *

Things were heating up in District 11. The Victory Tour and the public executions following had created quite a stir. The Peacekeepers were harsher than ever. No one was allowed to congregate in public anymore. Everyone was scared of rebellion. Virgillo was not.

His stylish boots clopped around the uneven road. There wasn't much activity at this hour, but Virgillo knew that Peacekeepers would be looking for trouble. He grinned to himself. He was looking for trouble too, just of a different variety.

Even if he wasn't looking for trouble, it often found him. Although, he _was_ the one who so readily sought it out. He enjoyed messing around with his friends and playing the occasional prank on a Peacekeeper, if he could get away it, and to his credit, he usually could.

These days though, jokes and laughter were few and far between. Virgillo somewhat resented that Katniss and Peeta. He figured that their story was bullshit and all it did was end up escalating things. Their stunt on the Victory Tour cost D11 far too much if he had anything to say about it.

Things were fine before. Things weren't great, but they were fine, and Virgillo was fine with that. The Capitol and Games weren't much a concern to him. He was living it up and he wasn't gonna let any political bullshit stop him.

But here he was, sneaking around in the dead of night, risking his life, just to live a little.

He rounded the back end of building and nearly plowed right into the back of a Peacekeeper. He stopped dead in his tracks and quickly spun back around the corner of the building. He held his hand up to his mouth and held his breath.

The Peacekeeper's boots turned around then clomped towards the small alley Virgillo had turned in to. Rapid thoughts popped into his head. Was this really how he was going to go out? In some street corner in the dead of night? No, he thought. This could not be the end for Virgillo Arroya.

Just as he prepared to break into a full-on sprint, the Peacekeeper's enormous footfalls suddenly stopped, and then went away into the distance.

Virgillo breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn't the end. He shook his head and laughed to himself, his long hair drifting in the soft breeze.

With the obstacle vanquished, he continued his little trek without incident. Then, he finally came upon his desired destination. A medium-sized warehouse loomed before him. It hadn't been used for any actual production in a long time, and that was fine with Virgillo. It was more than fine. It was great.

He tugged his leather jacket taught around his shoulders and headed stealthily towards the warehouse. He walked around the side and came upon some neatly placed crates. With ease, he scaled them like a staircase and entered the building throw an open window.

"There he is!"

Virgillo smiled at the voice coming from a boy sitting in the center of the warehouse.

"Hit a little snag on the way here, no problems though. I was a pro. Those Peacekeepers pack a punch, but boy are they stupid."

"Peacekeepers! Dude, you've got to be more- "

"Yeah, yeah I know. Be more careful. Whoopee."

The other boy's face crinkled with worry.

"Not funny man, they will seriously kill you. Like for real. Dead."

"Ain't gonna happen."

"That is unbelievably naïve of you."

Virgillo split into a massive grin at this comment.

"I've gotten this far haven't I? I mean hey, you came out here too didn't you."

The boy rolled his eyes.

"You're insufferable."

"You love me."

The boy rolled his eyes once again at this, blushing slightly.

"I think loving you is reserved for all your suitors. But then again, they don't really love you do they…"

"Wow man, a little below the belt there."

"I-"

"I mean, I know you'd like it below the belt, but come on."

At this innuendo, the boy flushed again.

"Why you gotta be like that?"

Virgillo shrugged in response.

"It's in my nature."

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it."

"Maybe, maybe not."

The boy threw his hands up, exasperated. He then pulled out something from his pocket.

"You wanna smoke or not?"

"Amaris, I thought you'd never ask."

Soon the embers were lit and puffs of smoke began to fill the little warehouse.

"So did you ever hook up with Elli?"

"Naw, not really, I'm kinda just…"

"The Quell?"

Virgillo slightly stiffened at this.

"Well, uh, sort of."

Amaris nodded in agreement.

"Yeah it's scary. And if you get reaped, you'll actually have to stay committed to someone. I wonder what that would be like for you…"

Virgillo laughed and playfully shoved Amaris.

"Another dig at my expense, got it."

"Well I can't help it if it comes so naturally."

"You're an ass."

"Right back at you," Amaris responded, smiling.

Silence. The two puffed, the embers fading slightly.

"It's hitting me now man," Virgillo exhaled.

"It's pretty good stuff, wasn't easy to get."

Virgillo looked around the barn. His vision was getting a little blurry, but he noticed a ladder in the far corner of the warehouse. Moonlight leaked in, sprinkling on the ladder and surrounding patches of grass, sprouting between the old floorboards.

"Hey, how bout we go up to the roof," he offered.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Of course."

"You're something else, you know that?"

The two made their way up the ladder and to the roof. They found themselves bathed in moonlight. The warehouse wasn't that tall, but they could still see a good amount of the district.

"It's something else isn't it."

"Well, it's home." Virgillo breathed, letting the luminous moonlight fill his lungs. There was so much more to life than rebellion and politics. Sure, things could be better, but things were fine. Things were fine.

Suddenly, Virgillo was pulled away from his gaze into the sky. He noticed something touching him. Amaris was looking up at the sky too, but his hand had wandered from the roof and up Virgillo's thigh.

"Uh," he grunted, confused.

Amaris turned to him. He moved his hand from Virgillo's thigh and instead clasped his hand.

"It's a nice isn't it?"

Uh oh. Virgillo knew exactly where this was going. His heart pounded violently, like a drum about to explode.

"I should go, it's late," he said, turning back to the ladder leading down from the opening in the roof.

"Virgillo…" Amaris whispered, his eyes beckoning.

"You're high. We're both really high, and we'd uh—really regret that."

"But—"

"Sorry man, I've gotta go."

With that, Virgillo was gone. He made his way down the ladder and out of the warehouse at an incredible pace.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. Everything was fine. Everything was just fine, right? He sighed to himself and looked up at the moon.

Everything wasn't fine.

* * *

**Oisin Tudor, 18 **

_**District 11, the day of the 74****th**_**_ Annual Victory Tour_ **

* * *

"Thanks anyway."

Another job declined. It wasn't like he really needed the work per say, but he felt like he owed it to parents at least. He wanted to repay them for the surgery. He felt like he needed to.

Oisin Tudor was too kind for his own good, but he didn't know that. Self-awareness was not his forte.

He walked down the road leading away from the custard store and tried to tell himself he didn't get the job because it was Victory Tour day. But he knew the reason. It was the same reason he got occasional stares from passersby.

Being transgender in District 11 was not easy. D11 was rather conservative in a lot of ways, one of which was discrimination against any sort of non cis or straight person. Oisin resented his district for it. All he really wanted was to be accepted, loved even. But all of those feelings had been buried deep inside him, and all he could really think of day to day was just getting through making sure he could be as much of a "man" he could be.

He was aware of the damage that the discrimination was doing to him, but he had, at this point, found it easier to just go along with it. Things were hard enough already; he didn't need to be fighting for his rights. Besides, there seemed to be a fight looming already.

Oisin tried to keep his mind off of some of the stares he was collecting. If anything, the stares hurt more than the words. To him, it meant he didn't "pass" yet. To him, it meant he wasn't enough of a "man" yet. He tried to let those thoughts go and tried to focus on the Victory Tour instead.

Everyone was talking about it, and how couldn't they? The first double Victors in Panem's history and D11 was their first stop. But Oisin didn't really care about that Victor couple. In fact, he didn't really have any strong feelings about the Games. He didn't love or hate them. Mostly, he just tuned in to look at the Capitol. He was envious of their forward-thinking and their acceptance of people like him. Sometimes he would imagine himself was a Capitol citizen. The stares he would get wouldn't be of confusion or distaste. He'd imagine they'd be of awe, just looking at what a man he was.

But those thoughts were childish, and reality lived here, in District 11. And with…

"Hey man, what's up."

Diego Ventura, a young rich, and popular boy. He had a tendency to collect people and recently, he had collected Oisin, but not of out respect. He had done it out of morbid curiosity. Oisin was more like a pet in cage to him, which was of course a feeling that Oisin had already felt most of his life.

"Nothing much, I was just gonna go work out for a bit," he replied.

"Oh right, you gotta make sure your boobs don't grow back or something, ha!"

Diego's comment hit Oisin hard, but he just shoved it deep down like always. He wasn't fazed. This was reality. This was normal.

"Yep, for sure." Oisin smiled. He offered up a small chortle.

"Oh come on Oisin, it was pretty funny," declared a shrill voice behind Diego.

Just then, a boy and a girl approached. The girl had a huge smile plastered on her face. She clutched Diego's arm lovingly. Zoella Thornton was just girl in love, except she really more obsessed.

At this affection, the other boy's face made a slight grimace that only Oisin caught. Dorian Flowers. Just like Zoella, he was in love with Diego too, only he was more closeted about it. Literally. Dorian was obviously gay, but wasn't out. Oisin figured that Diego collected him too, maybe for the fact he just liked to be surrounded by people who were in love with him. Having both a girl and a guy who are in love with you was quite the flex if you were to ask Oisin.

An awkward silence followed.

"Well, you guys and gals should come over after the Victory Tour thing, I've got something planned."

"Oooooooooh what, what!" Zoella squeaked.

"Maybe a game of strip poker…" Diego smirked. "I'm curious about a couple things." He looked from Zoella's chest to Oisin's.

Oisin felt his eye twitch.

"Yeah that sounds good, I'll see you guys then." With that, Oisin turned on his heel and headed for home.

The walk home went faster than it usually did. Before he knew it, he found himself home in no time at all. His calves were burning from the massive speed walk that he didn't even knew he did.

Oisin's home had a nice exterior. It looked pretty expensive compared to the majority of the houses in the district. It was a dark tan, with a couple windows and a clean façade. The roof was triangular, typical of the upper class in D11.

He stepped through the front door and into the kitchen. Something smelled good. It was a warm, slightly tangy scent. He figured his mother was cooking something up.

Sure enough, upon stepping farther inside, he found her working on the stove, her back to him.

At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to face him. Immediately her brow furrowed and her face almost seemed to darken.

"Ornella."

"Mom."

The two stared at each other with blank faces.

"You should get ready for the Victory Tour soon, I'd like you to look nice."

"When is Dad coming home?"

"I don't know for sure, hopefully soon."

Another pause.

"I'm gonna work out for a bit."

"You do that." She turned back to the stove without another word.

Oisin made it up to his room before the tears started to fall. Home wasn't easy either. Nothing was easy and nothing was simple. He just wanted to be loved, to be accepted. Was that so much to ask?

He felt a fire burning up through his chest, fueled by the hot tears dripping down from his face. He sniffled, wiped eyes, and suddenly dropped to floor.

He began to furiously do sit-ups, and then push-ups. He did them with incredible ferocity. The floorboards were shaking. He breathed in and out in heavy gasps, his thoughts hammering throughout his head with motion.

Oisin just wanted things to be ok, to be easy. Things weren't easy for anyone in District 11, especially for someone trans.

Nothing was ever easy, and all Oisin wanted was for something to be.

* * *

**the first tributes! YAY! I hope you guys liked this chapter and our first Match! **

**Thanks to their respective submitters and I hope I did an ok job bringing them to life. **

**Btw, if anyone ever has an issue with the way I write a character, please PM me so I can fix it! **

**So, what did think of Oisin? Of Virgillo? **

**Did you like one more than the other? **

**Are you #teamVirsin? (any other pair names are welcome lol, I'm bad at this)**

**Also, is this a good length for intros? Like do y'all want more or less? or is this good? Please let me know. For this chapter I stuck to about 1,000 words per character. **

**Thanks guys and btw, I'm an absolute review whore, so please review if you have the time! I'd love the feedback. **


	6. Beauty, Brain, Brawn

**Hi Guys! D1 time! **

* * *

**Junia Allaire, 18 **

**_District 1, Two months before the Reapings_ **

* * *

The smell was what awoke Junia Allaire every morning, or at least, the mornings he spent the night at home.

He raised his head, allowing his senses to take in the morning air. A sweet, delectable scent sifted through his small bedroom and enveloped him.

The room wasn't big at all. In fact, it was rather barebones. On one side, there were bookshelves, bursting with giant books, some old and some new. Junia's bed faced some stairs, heading down to the rest of the cottage. To the immediate right of the stairs, were more books. These were piled up on the floor. They looked rather unorganized but it was clear that there was a method to this chaos.

A large, octagonal window was sprawled just behind the back of Junia's bed. It overlooked a rather impressive garden, with flowers and a variety of flora and foliage.

He gracefully stepped out of bed, allowing a sudden new scent to take over. Something was cooking down in the kitchen, and it smelled delightful.

Junia dressed quickly, in a simple white shirt and brown slacks. Sometimes simplicity was just better. Compared to the rather extravagant personalities and looks of the others in District 1, Junia found that a more muted look was superior. He didn't need to flaunt in that way. He didn't believe anyone should flaunt that much. To him, the only thing worth flaunting was someone's mind. That was true beauty.

He traipsed down the stairs to find his mother cooking in the kitchen. Now that he was closer, he recognized the particular smell.

"Cinnamon rolls?"

Junia's mother turned and smiled, answering his question without words. Sheeva Allaire had always been there for Junia. She had raised him on her own after a teen pregnancy. Things weren't easy for her. Then she discovered meditation. It changed her life, and by proxy, Junia's as well.

Soon, Sheeva had gone into business with her practice and made significant profits. She passed lessons of loving the earth and the environment and philosophical thoughts on to her son. Junia had been shaped by this zen life style, but he soon developed his own personal philosophy.

His mother's practice was not as genuine as it was pitched to be. In fact, a lot of it was just bullshit. Candles couldn't cure illnesses. Junia was a reader and thinker, and he certainly wasn't stupid. He didn't agree with his mother's practice, but still loved her the same.

"Made them fresh his morning, all-natural ingredients."

"I'm sure."

His mother sighed indignantly.

"Not everything is scam you know."

"I know." Junia grinned.

He took one of the cinnamon rolls. They were perfection. Crisp and brown, with the perfect temperature and just the right flavor.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome! By the way, are you off somewhere today?"

"Yeah, I think I'm just going to go for a stroll."

"Ok, have a blessed time and spread the word of the earth!"

Junia playfully rolled his eyes.

"Of course." With that he headed outside.

The cottage was small, but it was cozy. Besides, it was the grounds around it that made it so magical. Prismatic flowers, dripping daises, and twisted trees sprawled across a smooth stone path that snaked its way from the cottage and down a hill. The end of the path was obscured by foliage, but it led directly into town after some time.

Junia never minded the long walk. It gave him time to think, and he never passed up the chance to think. Dwelling in the mind was one of his favorite pass-times. How could people even be bored, he often wondered. How could they, when all they have to do is reach into their conscious and just think. It wasn't that hard, and it was where enlightenment was reached.

He didn't have time for people who didn't know how to truly think. They were a waste of time and a waste of life. Perhaps they were good for money, but that was about it. Junia didn't care much about money anyway, but a lot of people did. He figured there were much more valuable things in life.

It seemed like no time had past at all when Junia reached the end of path at the bottom of hill. Town awaited. He walked with an air of superiority through town. He wanted people to know that they were not full of greatness. How could they be?

"Junia!"

Junia turned to the direction of the voice. A girl with an avalanche of blonde hair waved to him as she approached. She was quite beautiful.

"Velvet, how are you?"

"Oh Junia, I'm not doing so great. Merlot and have been fighting. A lot."

"I see." He reached out his hand and placed it on her shoulder. He closed his eyes and dragged his hand across her exposed collarbone. He then opened his eyes to meet Velvet's.

"Well?"

"Yes, there is certainly a change in your aura. Something is blocking its flow, pressing it down and holding it back."

"What do I do?"

Junia smiled. The best was still to come.

"Meet me later tonight, I think I have an idea."

He turned to leave and smiled to himself. _Wait for it. _

"Wait!"

Junia turned back to Velvet. _Success _

"Yes, Velvet?"

"I'm…I'm free right now and no one's home. It'll just be you and me and we can figure this out…"

Velvet's eyes shone with admiration and passion. Junia knew that it for him, and he loved it.

He reached out and took her hand.

"Lead on."

Velvet's eyes sparked with electricity and the two walked through town until they came upon a large white house.

Velvet gestured to the empty house.

"Shall we?"

"We shall." The two walked up the stairs and into the house. Despite its emptiness, it was warm and inviting, and of course, very nicely decorated.

"Velvet, I believe is issue in your aura isn't you, it's something else."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you. You shine with unobstructed light. The blockage isn't you. It's Merlot."

Velvet looked down at the floor and then back up to meet Junia's fiercely passionate gaze.

"I think you're right, so what should I do?"

"Let me show you." That was the final nail.

Junia didn't come home to the cottage that night. He slept…elsewhere.

* * *

**Akiara Ito, 16**

**_District 1, Three days before the Reapings_ **

* * *

Akiara Ito was reading. She knew she really should be watching the sparring match instead, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't waste any chance to study, especially since the Games were so close.

Today, her focus was on terrain. What types of terrain had what types of flora and fauna, what types where the deadliest, what types were more inviting, etc. She asked these and other questions to herself. She found that thinking through the information via a question and answer format was the key to information retention. It hadn't failed her yet.

"And that's the match, Junia wins!"

Akiara looked up from her book to the center of the training room. The room was a cobalt blue color with no windows. The floor had blue mats that mostly clean, although the occasional stain persisted. A boy was laying the floor in the sparring ring at the center of the room. Standing over him was another boy, huge in size, the ghost of smile across his face.

"Sorry Merlot, your energy was unbalanced," Junia stated matter-of-factly.

Akiara rolled her eyes. Even from the benches lining the edge of the room, she could see right through his bullshit. Junia Allaire was one of the top students of the year. He was likely one of the final candidates for the Games if it was any other year, but this year was a Quell and the selection process was different.

The Quell announcement had thrown the D1 training community into chaos. The oldest kids were pissed, the trainers were pissed, everyone was pissed. Akiara understood the fuss, but it didn't really concern her. She still had two years before her most likely chance of being able to volunteer for the Games. She had renewed ferocity after the subpar performances of Glimmer and Marvel in the 74th Games.

Nevertheless, the D12 pair won fair and square, so she didn't feel too badly about it, she just wanted them to represent better for the next year. She hoped that whoever the Matchmaker would choose would be up to the task of winning the Games.

Akiara hoped it would be her, but she knew that was very unlikely. Besides, she wasn't really sure about whether the Quell twist was a blessing or a curse yet, and she certainly wasn't sure about potential romance. She was shy, quiet and unsure. The Quell wasn't her time, but the 76th or 77th Games were hers to win. Period.

"Hey."

Akiara turned to the girl who had just sat down next to her.

"Callista, I thought you weren't coming in today."

"Well, I decided to. Reapings are in 3 days you know. I thought a little extra training might not hurt, especially if I get picked."

"Do you want to be picked?"

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. It's a weird Quell, nothing like we've seen, but I guess that's what makes it so interesting."

"I guess." Akiara sighed. Callista flicked her eyes to her friend and then back at the center of the room.

"Anyway…so why did you come here? You could read anywhere…"

Akiara closed her book with a thud that echoed around the training room.

"I thought I was going to spar, but I got engrossed in this. Knowledge is not overrated and people here tend to forget that."

"Ok, sure, but maybe this isn't the place—"

"What are you reading?" came a deep, smooth voice.

Callista and Akiara looked up to the towering figure of Junia.

"Well?" he asked again. Akiara and Callista were silent.

"Uh, well, it's on topography and variations of terrain."

"Interesting." Junia sat beside Akiara, who was now sandwiched in between him and Callista.

"Not many people here read."

"I've noticed," Akiara replied.

"People should read more; the world gets so dull without books. Wouldn't you agree?"

Akiara was concerned with the conversation. She just wanted to get up and leave. Callista wasn't much help either. She was just sitting there, silent.

"Yes, I think so."

Junia nodded in response.

"I agree, it makes people's auras exceptionally pure and bright." He let of his fingertips brush her shoulder. "In fact, you're probably the brightest in the room."

Akiara stood up in an instant.

"I don't buy what you're selling Mr. Allaire, you're just as bad as that mother of yours." With that she stormed off, a book in one hand and Callista's arm in the other.

Soon she and Callista were outside. The blues of the training were gone and replaced with the radiant warmth of the sun at the height of the afternoon.

"Well that was weird," Callista muttered.

"Oh, you weren't any help at all so don't even bother saying anything."

"Akiara—"

Akiara huffed at looked her feet. Her eyes were nearly steaming.

"Sorry, it's just…that guy really rubs me the wrong way. And the fact that he actually came up and talked to me…"

"Do you think he wanted to sle—"

"I don't care what he wanted, I just want to go home. I'll see you later." Akiara turned on her heel and marched away.

She didn't fully show it, but she was much angrier than she had let on. People like that…she never respected. Junia and his mother were famous for their "alternative lifestyle" and "special gift" and the citizens of District 1 ate that stuff up.

Sometimes, living in D1 was a real pain. Sometimes, Akiara would wonder what it would be like to live in District 3, where they valued intelligence. Of course, that was just a random thought. District 1 wasn't that bad. All things considered, it was pretty good.

Akiara knew she was close to home when heard the familiar barking of her dog. She smiled as she reached the porch of her house. It wasn't as big as some of the houses, but still, it was a decent size.

Instead of going through the front door, she headed around the side through a gate into her spacious backyard.

A happy yelp greeted her as a little ball of tan fire barreled into her.

"Hi Jasper!"

The corgi was a gorgeous tan, sandy color. His eyes were full of light, just with the happiness of seeing her come home. Akiara laughed as Jasper snuggled all over her, panting heavily, butt wagging.

She loved animals, especially dogs, and seeing Jasper was just what she needed today. She loved Jasper, but often wondered thought about what he would do if she volunteered and never came home...

No. She would come home. She had to. There could be no other outcome. Logic was telling her otherwise, smacking her upside the head, but she just couldn't bear the thought of a world in which Akiara Ito wouldn't be the Victor of the Hunger Games.

* * *

**YAY! Thanks for reading and reviewing btw. It means a lot to me. I've been going through a lot this week, I won't overshare but I had no time to write basically so it's a good thing this chapter was ready by last week. Next chapter will probably be a little later than friday just because I have midterms next week and I GOTTA STUDY. **

**Did you like these two? Did you like one more than the other? **

**Are you #teamJUKIARA? **


	7. A Tree Falls in a Forest

**5 months. Oops. Depression and college are different kinds of monsters **

* * *

**Zinnia Birchwood, 17**

_**District 7, one year before the Reapings**_

* * *

For Zinnia Birchwood, tonight was the night. Everything had been leading up to this. Meticulous planning, careful thought-out trajectory, all the works. Revenge was on her mind and revenge was what she was going to get.

It was the dead of night. Things were still and quiet, except for the light chatter of the workers coming back from the late shift in the lumber yards. A faint trumpet of laughter could be heard. Zinnia sneered to herself. She'd be the one laughing soon enough. Soon enough.

The window to her bedroom was open, letting in a nice subtle breeze that carried the scent of the pines on its shoulders. For any citizen of District 7, it was a pretty comforting smell. Mostly.

She hoisted herself off of her bed and gazed outside into the darkness that melded with a slight greenish tint off in the distance. She was really going to go through with it. She had thought about it over and over in her head and nothing was going to stop her.

She wanted to air these thoughts to the wind and sky that were waiting just outside the window, but she knew she should probably stay quiet. An element of surprise was needed for what was to come. The thought of that made her smile. What a charming late-night surprise this would be.

Then suddenly, her thoughts made a brief stop in the land of logic. She wasn't sure what she was about to do would be the best for her image. In fact, it would probably be quite the detriment. She was already the "circus" girl around town and she didn't want to give the people of District 7 any other excuse to drag her good name.

Zinnia's family came from a long lineage of circus folk which, according to her father, go all the way back to before the Dark Days. He told Zinnia tales that his father told him, tales of elephants and rings of fire. Of course, Zinnia and her family did nothing like that now. It was more lowkey events to ease the boredom of some of the wealthier families in the district. Zinnia found it hard to believe that boredom could really be an issue but it seemed that was the case when you didn't have to fill your quota of tree related work.

These days, the Birchwood Family Circus was more focused on comedy rather than talent, and boy did Zinnia love it. It became a little tiresome doing the same old shtick time after time, but it made a decent pay and kept them fed and healthy, so who could complain? Zinnia certainly wouldn't. It was an honest living for a family of three.

Being part of a tiny circus did have its perks, and one of those perks was going to provide her with the means for revenge. She could hardly wait any longer. Tonight was the absolutely the night. There were minimal drunks and stragglers out on Wednesday nights and the late shifts were finishing up just a bit earlier. There was no better time.

When the last of the chatter faded into the stillness of the night, Zinnia made her move. She grabbed her gear and her suit and headed out.

She opened the door of bedroom slowly, inch by inch to avoid the insane creaking it would make. Zinnia was just thinking of how they really needed to fix her door but her door did what it did best: scream like a dying child.

Zinnia instinctively winced and retreated back into her bed room with a swift motion. She took a deep breath and wiped some perspiration from her brow. She still couldn't believe that she was doing this, but there was no turning back. She was too angry, too hurt, too humiliated. Revenge was the only thing that would satisfy her.

It was this thought that coaxed back out the door, more quietly this time. Luckily for her, the stairs were much less vocal so she descended them with ease. She turned from the short staircase and headed towards the back door. Overall, it was a pretty modest home but certainly leagues better than some of the poorer areas in the district.

Zinnia was just past the small kitchen and to the back door when a sound made her stop in her tracks. A long low growl, almost like a demon was crawling up from the earth. She whipped her head around to see her father, asleep in his musty brown arm chair.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. She figured her father had probably planned to stop her. She grinned to herself, knowing that his effort to stop her would have been feeble. In fact, he probably would have given her a wink and set her on her way.

Zinnia considered waking him but decided against it. Better to ask for forgiveness and not permission. And with that, she headed out the door and into the night.

She knew that she mustn't be seen on her way to her destination but Zinnia was no fool. She planned out exactly which road and back alleys to take, which yards to cut through, which Peacekeepers patrolled where. Oh yes, she was not going to be seen.

Into the night she went. Her path was meticulous but uneventful. It was hard to be patient when the only thing she'd been thinking about was so close to resting in her palms.

"Revenge," she muttered under her breath. "Revenge." It wasn't a very clever mantra but it certainly was effective in amping her up when she finally reached her destination.

Her destination was a one floor house in one of the less nice parts of town. The house seemed like it could really use some brightening up. It almost looked sad. She tried not to feel bad and let her anger consume her once more.

She positioned herself directly in front of the house. The night was still and there were almost no sounds. Yes. It was time.

Zinnia raised her weapons, a carefully chosen spoon and plate. The light of the crescent moon illuminated the matted fur of the horribly smelling, thoroughly rotted, full body monkey suit. A little gift from the circus. And with that, she began clanking her spoon and plate and belted out with joyful glee:

_HEY, ELIJAH! _

_I REALLY, HATE YA._

_YOUR LAST NAME IS SKYLES, _

_BUT YOU'VE GOT NO STYLE._

Lights were beginning to click on in the vicinity. Zinnia's heart raced and she continued to sing:

_YOU BROKE, MY HEART_

_SO HERE I AM, _

_IN THE DARK. _

Confused voices began to raise out of the darkness, but nothing was going to stop her. Nothing.

_FUCK YOUR LIFE!_

_YOU'LL NEVER GET A WIFE!_

_SO WATCH OUT BUDDY, _

_CAUSE SO YOU'RE SO DAMN CRUSTY_

When the subject of her exuberant song finally appeared in his window, Zinnia just kept going. She put herself out there, she opened herself up, and all she got in return was humiliation. No one humiliated Zinnia Birchwood and got away with it.

As she sang to the beat of the plate and spoon, a smile played on her lips. She wanted revenge and revenge was what she got.

* * *

**Elijah Skyles, 18**

_**District 7, eleven months before the Reapings**_

* * *

Light was trickling through the trees, peppering the ground with little speckles of light. Elijah Skyles didn't find much beauty in things but he appreciated being able to see where was going in the early hours of the day.

Most people complained about waking up early for the morning shifts but Elijah didn't really mind. He never understood the complaints of the other boys as they trudged into the woods. Nevertheless, he participated in their small talk. Sure, he hated mornings, sure he hated the foreman, sure he wanted to head home and jack off. Sure.

The truth was that Elijah didn't care about any of those things, much less the company of his coworkers. That's why he would wake up extra early before the morning shift to run his trail.

It was a pretty quiet part of the woods, which was surprising considering all the nuts and berries that were just waiting to be picked. Yes, it was technically illegal but food was food and Elijah was careful. It's not like anyone in District 7 cared anyway.

As the sun rose, Elijah walked along peering into bushes. The marionberries were just getting to their peak ripeness. The ugly green color was gone and replaced with a deep black. The berries were alright but his mom really liked them. During the summer she'd try to make marionberry pie if she could. It was a small summer treat but it made her smile so it was worth it.

At home it was just himself and her. At a young age his father had run out on them. Elijah didn't remember anything about his father really. All he knew was that resented him for leaving. He loved his mom but she couldn't give him what a boy needs growing up. A boy needs his father to grow up, to be man, and Elijah felt like he never got that chance. He worked out to be as masculine as he could be. He followed the examples of the other boys when he was younger but nowadays he wasn't a follower.

Elijah moved along the trail of pine needles, gathering more berries as he went. There seemed to be plenty for a pie. He decided to allow himself to smile. He knew that his mother wasn't around to see it so it technically didn't exist to her at all, but he figured that the gesture was nice enough. Things were always a little hard in the summer. The Hunger Games. The Reaping. Bad memories.

The 74th Hunger Games were off and apparently were a big hit. Elijah zoned out when they had to watch the Games. He hated them. Oh how he hated the Hunger Games.

At 11 years old, the Reapings of the 68th Hunger Games happened and changed his life forever. His sister, Harleigh, was 15 years old when she reaped and then murdered in the Games. He loved her a lot, despite the overload of femininity she added to the Skyles household. That year was the hardest in Elijah's life. He remembered watching her die on the TV, how his mother was sobbing on the floor, rocking back and forth and cursing the world.

11-year-old Elijah just sat there, watching the life leave his sisters body. After that, everything changed. Elijah turned 12 the next year and applied for tesserae. He became the true man of the house and began having to work to provide for his mother and himself. She couldn't do as much as him anyway. That's when the berry trails started, but so did something else.

Elijah finished collecting the ripest of the berries into an old bucket and headed off the trail. If picking berries was illegal, his next activity was far more so.

He trudged along, letting the smell of the trees into his nostrils. He decided it wasn't an awful smell but he certainly didn't understand why so many people in D7 were so attached to it. It was just a scent after all.

A sudden snap and horrible meek whimper snapped him out of his thoughts. Elijah's eyes flashed with something that was almost excitement as he raced over towards the sound.

There. He came upon one of his many snares in the woods. The sharp wire was coiled around a feebly stirring chipmunk. It wasn't a huge animal but food was food. Elijah approached, his eyes flickering over the scene.

The snare had snapped the little creature's spine. Tiny bones protruded out of its chestnut colored fur. Matted blood dipped down onto the forest floor. Its legs were twitching back and forth, trying desperately to take itself away from the pain. Elijah would relieve the chipmunk from its meager existence in a moment, but he wanted to look into its eyes first.

The chipmunk's eyes are beady and black, like a void that cried out for help. Elijah figured that if it could cry tears in pain, it probably would be doing so right now.

He lowered himself to the ground looked directly into the tortured animal's eye. He reached out a hand to the animal's neck and felt it try to flinch back. This only caused the spine to rip farther out. Fresh blood and flecks of broken bone meandered their way past Elijah's hand.

He almost smiled again but decided not to. This animal would not be comforted by a smile. As Elijah looked into the chipmunk's eyes, he placed his fingertips around the animal's neck and squeezed. His fingers strained for a moment, and the chipmunk's neck broke.

It let out a final pitiful cry and died. Elijah kept his hand on the bloody fur for a moment, determined to try to feel the warmth leave its fur.

After a moment, Elijah decided that the creature was too mangled for food. He didn't mind that. He had the berries after all.

The sun was shining through the trees a little more brightly. Morning shift would be starting soon.

Elijah quickly hid evidence of the chipmunk's gory demise and took off at a run towards home. He knew he needed to drop off the berries before work. It was technically illegal after all.

As he ran through the woods, his thoughts wandered back to the chipmunk's final squeal. He wondered if his sister had sounded similar. He figured that the difference was that the world heard his sister scream as she was butchered, but only he and trees heard the chipmunk's last utterance.

He reached the end of dense part of the woods and looked over his shoulder back at the trees. He wondered aloud this time.

"If someone dies but there is no one there to witness it, do they really die?"

* * *

**Two VERY tonally different POVS here but I hope you all liked them. I'm sorry that it has been so long. Things have been crazy for me and I did not intend to go on hiatus like this. I'm really really sorry. **

**Anyways, so we met Zinnia and Elijah! I had some trouble writing these POVs so I hope that I was able to introduce the characters well enough. Also there was super minimal dialogue for this intros compared to the first two but I actually really liked not doing so much dialogue. **

**I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on these two and if you liked one more than the other. They've both very different and it's gonna be fun to see them both interact together. That's all for now, hopefully I'll have another update really soon**

**Are you #teamZINNIJAH?**


	8. Still Waters Run Deep

**It took me another month to update, I'm pathetic I know**

* * *

**Tahoe Cuero, 18**

_**District 4, one year before the Reapings**_

* * *

Tahoe Cuero never considered herself a "still waters" kind of girl. The doldrums were boring and had an eerie quiet and stagnation to them that just didn't jive. Water should be fluid, in motion, constantly changing, having the ability to decimate obstacles in an instant while having the calm silence underneath the water.

For her, it was important to keep the two separate. Turbulent surface, pristine depths. That's what she loved about the ocean. The propensity it had to be anything and be able to adapt to any situation. She admired it and yet, she feared it. She knew what it was capable of. She knew all too well.

Tahoe broke her gaze from the window of her home and turned back towards her family. The kitchen was fairly large with all the works surrounding a nice little island. To the of the right of the island was the kitchen table, a beautiful tannish wood color. She knew that she was extraordinarily lucky to live in such a house. It was a standard District 4 two-story with a steady electricity and ready access to Capitol TV. Her father was an event organizer for the celebrations in the District including local festivals, the Victory Tour, and visits from the Capitol.

Tahoe watched her father sit down at the table and saw his brow furrow. He was a fairly wide man but Tahoe knew that it was all muscle. He seemed intimidating but he had kind eyes. Tahoe understood the high pressure that his job put on him and felt sympathy. He changed over the past year though, and Tahoe had watched her father turn rigid and laser-focused on any task at hand. She worried about him sometimes.

Across from him sat Tahoe's little sister, Aleshanee. She had a book open at the table, of course, and she bore a striking resemblance to Tahoe, just younger and with longer hair. She couldn't have been more different from Tahoe. Aleshanee hated going outside, hated the sun, and didn't really care for swimming which was slightly problematic considering District 4's major exports.

As she flipped another page in the book, her mother appeared from the kitchen. "Tahoe why don't you come sit down, I made some crab cakes!"

Tahoe's mother had aged exceptionally well. Her beauty was still as radiant as ever. She moved with grace and was exceptionally poised. Tahoe knew of her mother's background as a talented dancer in the art of water ballet and it was apparent in her movement.

"Sorry Ma, I was just-"

"Staring out the window? Yeah." She smiled as she set down a plate. "The sea looks so beautiful this time of year, it's hard not to stare."

"But it's so sweltering out, I don't know how you stand it," Aleshanee whined with her head still buried in her book.

"No reading at the table please, this is family time!" Tahoe tried to stifle a sigh. Her mother's enthusiasm came off as trying too hard. She supposed that it was her way to cope with what happened, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Tahoe wanted to say something to her, but decided against it. There was a time and place for speaking her mind, and this certainly was not it.

Aleshanee snapped the book closed, revealing a look of annoyance on her face. Tahoe slid into her usual seat at the table, but felt a growing sense of emptiness. When the whole family was together like this, it was very clear that something was missing and she did not like that feeling one bit.

"That goes for pamphlets too," her mother said with a slightly pointed tone. She gestured with her eyes towards the pamphlet that her father was deeply engaged in. Some sort of a rich man from the Capitol was visiting soon and they needed updated info highlighting the best and most luxurious places in the District to go. Despite District 4 being rather wealthy, things were still not going so great in certain areas of the district. Tensions were getting high because of the fish shortage and the growing class divide between the fisherman and the higher-end jobs was only getting worse.

"Sorry, right." Her father placed the pamphlet down and turned his attention to the crab cakes. "Looks good."

"Well I hope so, even though I didn't have any help…" At this from her mother, Tahoe let out a dramatic eyeroll while her sister did the same.

"I was _reading,_" her sister said pointedly.

"You heard her." Tahoe's father smiled. "Let's just try to enjoy the food."

Tahoe was hardly focused on the food. She found her attention suddenly fixed on an empty space at the dinner table, just big enough for a chair. Tahoe started to zone out a bit, her eyes losing focus on anything in particular.

"Tahoe…" her father said softly. She didn't reply. Instead she let her eyes come back into focus. She turned to look at her father, and his resulting expression meant she must have looked pretty upset. He let out a sigh. "I know we're still reeling from what happened, but we have to do our best to just move on." Her father's words stung like sea spray in her eyes. How could he talk like this when his son was dead?

Her father continued, "Ultimately, what Akule was doing was incredibly dangerous and we warned him against it, countless times…"

Tahoe felt her anger flare up, the sea churning inside her. The fragile stillness had been disturbed and there was no going back. She knew that she shouldn't say anything, but if her father continued-

"He brought this on himself. None of us are responsible and we just have to life with the fact that Akule died and-"

"THAT'S MY BROTHER YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT." Tahoe's anger broke through. No time for silence, no time to mince words.

"Tahoe, please just-" Her mother moved towards her. Tahoe stood up quickly, her momentum causing her chair to fall backwards onto the floor.

"No, you don't get to say that Dad. He loved what he did! He had passion and what's wrong with that," Tahoe spat out, her breath starting to come in huffs.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"I know EXACTLY what you're saying, Dad." Tahoe stood up and flung the cab cake from her plate and out the open window behind her. She sped to the backdoor and threw herself outside. She knew exactly where she was going.

The sun was hot, sweltering even. Luckily her wetsuit was drying on a clothesline just outside the house so she snagged it and took off running. The sand was burning her feet, but she didn't care. Tahoe knew she was stubborn but she couldn't believe how they treated her brother's passing.

Akule spent a lot of his time free diving. He loved to dive in the depths and view all the ocean life he could find, and did so without any breathing equipment. It was an acquired skill, taking years of practice to condition your lungs to stay underwater for more than a minute. Not to mention it was incredibly dangerous. It was how he died after all.

Tahoe made it to one of the rockier beaches. It wasn't a great spot for surface swimming or fishing so people largely avoided it. But it was perfect for free diving.

When her brother was alive, Tahoe begged her brother to teach her. He had refused at first, but eventually gave in. Tahoe loved Akule so much. She looked up to him, wanted to be like him when she was younger. The time they spent under the water together, cheating death and discovering what lived under the surface of the sea was everything to her. And everything was worth much more than a little risk. It was worth more than dying.

The rocky shore had a number of underwater crevasses and depths just waiting to be explored. Without even catching her breath, she dove right into the water. After her brother passed, she had continued her training, continued to dive. Her father wouldn't approve, but she knew that her brother would want her to do it. Anything to keep him alive was worth it, especially when other people wanted to forget.

Tahoe opened her eyes into the blue depths, using her muscular arms and legs to propel herself deeper into a particular crevasse. She decided she didn't want to go too deep this time, she just wanted to see something specific.

Years of training had conditioned her eyes and her lungs. She couldn't see totally clearly, but the sun was strong, sending beams of light even to wear she was now. The water was a crystal blue, almost transparent.

Tahoe had worked her way up to spending a total of 8 minutes underwater. It had taken vigorous training, but it was worth it. Besides, her destination took some time to reach.

She turned her body horizontally to fit through a tight area and there it was. It was sort of an underwater clearing, surrounded by rocks except for the way she just entered through. Barnacles and seaweed covered the walls and ceiling of the little underwater cave, but it was the center she sought.

There, right at the bottom, was the most beautiful starfish she had ever seen. It was a fluorescent purple, showing up proudly against the dark rocks and the blue water.

Tahoe smiled. Her brother had shown it to her 2 years ago. And here it was. Same place. She wondered how long it had been here, but tried not to dwell on it. There was no way of knowing for certain.

The silence washed over Tahoe. She loved it. The gentle, silent calmness while the sea raged above. To find the still waters, you must swim to the deepest depths. Tahoe let her hair wave in the water as she soaked in the feeling. Rage and calm, calm and rage. It was a constant battle inside her, but she was happy to let the warring continue. Conflict made life a lot more interesting.

* * *

**Makara Opras, 17 **

_**District 4, 1 day before the Reapings**_

* * *

Makara Opras was not one to cut corners. She didn't believe in shortcuts, much less people actually utilizing them to their advantage. She let a slight puff of air out of her nostrils as she pondered this. Duck and weave, duck and weave. Her opponent was one that tried to use shortcuts. The match had barely even begun and he was already trying to take her down. Makara appreciated the tenacity but was annoyed at the drama of it all. This was a sparring match, not a time to peacock.

Her opponent, Briner, was a particularly obnoxious 18-year-old who was desperate to get into the Games. He probably would have been chosen to volunteer, if it wasn't for the Quarter Quell twist. Makara knew he was bitter but there was no reason to be acting the way he was.

Briner preferred to use a sword and was trying to be all flashy with it. He was spinning all over the place and his wicked smile annoyed the hell out of Makara. However, there was no reason to get upset. He may have been stronger and trained longer and harder, but he had never had to face off against Makara Opras.

It was this thought that pushed her forward. She stayed on her toes, easily dodging all of Briner's sword strikes. When a parry was needed, she parried. It was standard combat procedure. No need for anything fancy.

Makara pranced to the side, easily avoiding Briner's overstepped forward thrust. He was getting frustrated. Being humiliated in front of a crowd of trained hopeful victors would do that to you. Makara stepped to circle behind him. Briner was ready for her. He quickly stepped backward, bringing his sword in a backward swinging motion from his left. He planned to catch her by surprise.

And that was just what she knew he would do. As the strike came, she used her twin deer horn blades to knock his hand upwards, moving the sword out of the way. She darted in, and in one quick motion, sliced Briner's foam arm guards right off with a few quick precision strikes.

Briner was lucky this was just training. Had this been in the Hunger Games, he would be dead. Makara had executed a self-invented technique that she called "de-fanging the snake." She would use her weapon to quickly sever the tendons in her opponent's arms and legs and render them helpless. Without the ability to hold a weapon or run away, they were as pathetic as a snake without its fangs. A worthless slithering mess suddenly unable to bring her any harm.

"And that's the match. Congratulations Makara," called a handsome man with a sharply groomed beard. Pike Allantois. The Victor of the 61st Hunger Games had personally come to watch the final day of training before the Reapings, as was tradition. However, this year, there would be no official confirmation of the chosen volunteer. This year, everything was up to the Matchmaker. Makara had scoffed at the Quell announcement. The thought of one of those dramatic fools pairing up tributes for romance might have been one of the funniest things she had heard all year. As if they knew anything about the Districts and the lives of the kids who lived in them.

Nevertheless, Pike was here. Makara almost pitied him. He won his Games pretty convincingly but he was quickly overshadowed by Finnick Odair just a few years later. He didn't get to spend much time in the spotlight before Finnick became the youngest person to ever win the Hunger Games. To add insult to injury, he became a Capitol favorite almost instantly due to his stunning looks and irresistible charm. Finnick pretty much never came to the Academy, but Pike did. She supposed that it was likely his way of compensating for being a fairly forgettable Victor.

Pike approached her and held out his hand. "Congratulations, you were up against a tough opponent. I was surprised a girl of your size was able to best such a strong male."

The words stung Makara. What a piece of shit. She could see the faces of the other people watching the match grimace. Makara was cool and collected, but her anger was legendary. Those who experienced one of the only times she ever let loose have since refused to talk about. Makara made sure of that. All it took was a look. Intimidation was sometimes more powerful than action.

She was a fairly small girl, but she used it to her advantage in combat. She didn't appreciate Pike's comment but she was going to stay quiet. No need to pick a fight with a Victor. So, she reached out and shook his hand. She made sure to clasp tightly when she took his hand. As she did so, she looked him dead in the eyes. She noted that his brown eyes were quite stunning as she looked into them. They had a sparkle to them, but she could tell there were filled with jealously and resentment. Pathetic.

"Thank you sir, it was a pleasure to showcase my skills in combat," she responded, almost robotically. Makara didn't really know how else to respond. Putting emotion into words was something that she didn't think was really necessary. She found it hard to connect with people, especially those she didn't really care to know. What was the point of being fake and friendly if it ultimately doesn't matter?

"It was a pleasure to witness it up close. If the Matchmaker chose you, I think you'll represent the District very well along with the man he chooses to be your soulmate."

Makara almost laughed out loud at Pike's comment. There was no way the Matchmaker would choose her. She wanted to be prepared for the Games just in case, but it was much more likely that she wouldn't be picked. She had just gotten out of a particularly nasty relationship with a girl named Brizo.

Brizo was rather a mess of a person. She cheated on Makara on 3 separate occasions and each time, Makara forgave her. She cursed herself for sticking by her so much. Makara valued loyalty and she was loyal to Brizo above all else. It didn't matter how Brizo hurt her, all that mattered was that Brizo wasn't hurt by someone else.

Makara came to realize the flaw in this logic. But the break up was rough. Brizo suffered from severe depression and had several major depressive episodes that Makara had helped her through. She didn't mind at the time. She loved Brizo. Or so she thought.

Their relationship ended when Brizo broke up with her after calling her a toxic waste of time. Now, Makara found this ironic considering that was exactly what Brizo was to her. Three years of her life wasted dating that dramatic bitch. She tried not to judge her so harshly, but it was hard to deal with someone who she was so loyal to treat her like garbage. Enough was enough. She wished their love could have been like Katniss and Peeta.

Makara had been a bit spellbound watching the 74th Games unfold. She had never seen so much passion between two people before. That had to be love. What else could be love? She thought the whole thing was rather romantic, but it didn't off that way to a lot of people.

District 4 was losing its edge. Tensions were exceptionally high. Every since the Victory Tour, there were no longer whispers of rebellion, there was an outcry. Makara wasn't sure about the whole concept of rebellion yet. All she knew was that things were heating up and in danger of burning the whole place to the ground. She tried not to focus on it. There were less complicated things to deal with.

Following the match with Briner, Makara decided to head for home. Fatigue was catching up with her after the adrenaline of the match wore off. She took some more congratulations from Pike and other trainers and headed for the lockers. She slipped out of her gear and basic workout outfit into something a little more her speed. A clean slim fitting t-shirt and leggings made for movability was all she really needed. She headed out with her bag and started the walk home.

Makara was the one in charge of managing the house and keeping everything in order. Her family was quite busy without her mother around. Five years prior, her mother died to a blood-born pathogen, leaving herself, her father, and 3 older brothers behind. Makara missed her mother, but there wasn't really time to mourn. They needed to move on and there was plenty of work to be done.

Her family managed a boat rental service, which kept her family in the upper-middle class of D4, but that didn't mean it came easy. After her brothers aged out of the Reaping, they turned their attention from training to helping with the family business. Makara hardly ever saw them anymore. Managing a flourishing business with only 4 people was not an easy task.

Thus, Makara was left with the responsibility of taking care of the house and the potential needs of the men in her family. It didn't leave much in the way of free time between her home responsibilities and training, but it wasn't so bad. She was just glad they were living comfortably. In the recent years, there was a huge class divide in District 4, one that was growing worse by the day. She figured that this was likely a contributing factor for the cries for rebellion.

It was quite the walk back home, but it was a nice summer day. July 3rd wasn't a bad day at all. She finally let herself smile with the taste of victory of her match against Briner. She was very satisfied with her performance and was confident in her skillset. Even so, there was no way Makara was going to be Reaped. With all the kids in D4 to choose from, why would the Matchmaker choose her?

Makara sighed as she watched her home come into view just in front of the setting sun. She looked forward to see whatever this strange Quell would bring and would watch from the comfort of her home. If she wanted to volunteer for the Games, there was always next year. This year, Makara Opras would try to take it easy.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I actually had a lot of fun writing this one. It was a bit longer than what I was going for with the intros but I'm having a really rough week and this was kinda a way for me to unwind. Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter though! **

**I hope you guys had fun meeting Tahoe and Makara! There's still a lot left to unpack with them so stay tuned lol. **

**Btw, if anyone ever has any complaints with the way I portray their tribute, PLEASE let me know. I'd be happy to course correct their character. I promise I won't be offended and I won't kill off your character early to spite you. I have pretty much all the placements set already anyway. **

**I've started online college courses, but I dropped a class just to make room for getting back into writing this story so hopefully more frequent updates from now on! Thanks for reading and I'd love a review if you have a spare moment. **

**Are you #teamTAKARA? **


	9. Rebel with a Cause

**And we're back! Sooner than usual! And longer than usual!**

* * *

**Cyan Vanderbilt, 18**

_**District 8, 10 months before the Reapings**_

* * *

Cyan Vanderbilt felt his blood boiling before he even descended the spiraling grand staircase of the Mayor's residence. Cyan always sort of liked the staircase. He admired the pristine woodwork and polished railing that snaked down from the second floor all the way down to main floor, which popped with a variety of bright colors and expertly woven fabrics. It was the district's specialty after all.

However, Cyan didn't really have time to drag his feet and remain fixed at the top of the stairs. He father had planned a dinner tonight. With a girl. A _girl_. Cyan liked girls well enough as people and as friends, but sexually? No sir. In fact, that was what he wanted… a sir.

Cyan figured out he was gay pretty fast, but coming to terms with it was a different thing entirely. Being the Mayor's son came with certain expectations. Stay clean, stay poised, marry well, have lots of kids, keep the money in the family. Fuck that. FUCK that.

He tried to play the part of the Mayor's son for most of his life. It wasn't fulfilling but it was worth it to not be yelled at. He kept his grades up, had popular friends, wore expensive suits, all the works. But when his father wasn't around, Cyan decided to rebel a little bit. For him, that rebellion came in the form of kissing his best friend in his bedroom.

Trent. He was Cyan's everything. They were best friends for the longest time. They pal-ed around, did the typical boy things. They tried to talk about girls to each other but it always felt forced. One day, Cyan made the first move. The tension had been building exponentially when they hit their teen years, so when he placed his hand on Trent's thigh, it was all over.

District 8 was rather…conservative. A majority of the district lived in poverty and run-down housing, but Cyan, Trent, and his other friends lived in the upper echelon. Cyan knew that District 8 had major problems, problems that his father was always talking about, agonizing about. Unfortunately, he took those frustrations out on Cyan with a series of strict rules, and that just wouldn't do.

Cyan and Trent kept their relationship secret. Both feared the repercussions if they came out publicly. The richer families of District 8 relied on keeping the money in the family, and there weren't that many rich families in District 8 to begin with.

So began the late night meet-ups and sexual exploits. The Mayor's house was very large and Cyan lived on the top floor while his father lived on the bottom. There was plenty of space and the sound of moaning from Cyan's bedroom certainly wouldn't carry down that beautiful staircase.

Things went well for a while. Most nights Trent would come over and they'd talk, have great foreplay, and cap off the night with fucking the shit out of each other. In the mornings, Trent would go out the window to avoid the Mayor's prying eyes. Trent hated doing that. He wanted them to just be able to be together without all the secrecy, but Cyan was utterly terrified of what would happen if his father found out he was gay. Cyan played it off as just liking the thrill of the secrecy, but the truth was that he never felt more scared.

One night, the Mayor came home early and everything went to shit. He had ascended the stairs and opened the door to Cyan's bedroom to find them passionately making out on his bed. After that, it was all over.

The Mayor was furious. He was yelling like Cyan had never heard before. Trent was thrown out of the house, and Cyan was forbid to ever see him again. He hated that Cyan was into boys. He called his only son a disgrace, a failure, a pig, and a fiend.

It was the only time he had ever cried. But Cyan Vanderbilt would never cry again. From that point onwards, he decided that he would do everything in his power to destroy his father's reputation and legacy.

His grades dropped dramatically, he started acting out in school. He caused property damage, got into fights, dressed however he wanted. He particularly liked destroying other people's things. Why should they get to keep what they want when couldn't have what he wanted?

Mayor Vanderbilt did everything he could to salvage his damaged reputation, but Cyan made sure that he would never recover. The damage was done and it was irreputable.

In fact, one of his father's damage control strategies was the reason Cyan was not looking forward to descending the stars. Dinner. With a girl.

Cyan let out a huge huff as he clomped down the stairs. He made sure to walk unevenly, with solid _thuds_ and _bu-bumps_. He knew that his father was already cringing in the dining room from the sound and the thought of that made him smile.

Halfway down the stairs he decided to mount the railing and slide the rest of the way down. Normally it wouldn't really work, but it had been recently polished and before he knew it, he was zooming down the stairs.

The sudden drop made Cyan's chest tingle and he allowed himself a devilish smirk just before he ran out of railing. He tumbled right off with a resounding crash. It could have been a lot louder, but the sound of his rumpus was softened by the dense carpets on the floor.

Cyan brushed himself off, and tried to think of something else to break. A vase on a small little table next to the stairs caught his eye. He grinned and stuck out his hand as he passed the table, simply sweeping the vase to the floor.

As the vase shatter at his feet, he noticed that a piece of it must have cut him when he swept it off the table, because his hand was bleeding slightly. Perfect.

He strode proudly around the corner to view the dining room. Even he could admit it was rather spectacular. You'd think a blue dining room would be tacky, but somehow it worked. Everything was blue, from the chairs to the table to the lighting of the room. Accents of silver and gold lined the long wooden table, painted blue of course, and wove themselves into the tall backs of the dining room chairs.

Mayor Vanderbilt himself sat at the head of the table, facing Cyan as he came in. Cyan's heart soared at the expression on his face. His father's usually unreadable features dropped into shock, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows practically leaving his forehead.

To his right, sat a girl. Even Cyan could admit she was pretty stunning. She had long blonde hair that curled naturally around her soft features. Her brilliant blue eyes matched the surrounding scenery quite well.

Despite her beauty, Cyan was sickened when he laid eyes on her. He knew that his father must have picked her out because she was beautiful and was hoping that he and her would make a good enough child to inherit the money. Fucking disgusting.

Cyan's rage was building once again and his boyish glee was fading slightly.

"What's a matter, you got a thumb up your ass?" he called out, gesturing to his father. The Mayor snapped his jaw closed and then opened it to speak.

"Cyan please be nice. This is-" he gestured to the blonde girl, probably about to introduce her. Cyan didn't give a shit who she was.

"Yeah she's some pretty harlot you dragged in to you get your rocks off while I'm asleep upstairs. Real smooth Dad." Cyan's lip curled into a smile. He always had time for a great insult.

The girl's expression changed from confusion to disgust. Cyan noticed the dress she was wearing laughed at loud. It was like she was dressing for the capitol with that fancy, shiny shit. Cyan had chosen his attire quite deliberately. He was wearing a very tight white undershirt that he had cut crudely into a crop top. Loose sweatpants were barely hanging on to his hips.

"Anyways," Cyan continued. "Check this out!" He held up his bloody hand, watched the shocked faces of his father and the girl, and slammed it down onto the dining room table. He smeared his blood across the blue-painted woodwork. What a mess he had made.

"CYAN!" his father yelled. His father's composure had finally been broken. Perfect. Cyan hoped this poor girl that he had tried to set him up with would tell all her acquaintances about what happened tonight.

"Sorry Dad, gotta go. I didn't have an intention of entertaining this bitch and your pervert ass." He made sure he strutted as he moved toward the front door. He let a little wave and flung the front door of the house open and slammed it shut before his father could say anything else.

He immediately took off running. Cyan really liked running. It was a great way for him to cool down, plus it was a great way to stay in excellent shape.

As he ran, his bleeding hand started to bother him less and less. Oh how he loved the power of adrenaline. Cyan's muscular legs propelled him over the gates of the Mayor's residence and outside to the rest of District 8.

At first, Cyan didn't really know where he was going. He usually just ran to run and for no other reason. But tonight, he thought of Trent. He hadn't seen him that recently. After his father discovered the two of them together, they had to find other places to meet. Trent's family had a little shed in the back of their home that was perfect for their meetings.

Cyan changed direction and went north, towards Trent's home. He really couldn't wait to see Trent again.

"Boy do I need to get laid right now," he muttered under his breath, smiling slightly as he continued running.

Finally, Trent's house came into view. Luckily the lights were out and the darkness of the late evening was perfect for sneaking around. Cyan looped around the perimeter and hopped the fence in the back of the house. There, the shed. Cyan tried the door handle and found it unlocked. He quickly slipped inside.

"Cyan?!"

Trent. For whatever reason, his boyfriend was lying down in the shed. Usually they planned their meeting here carefully, so Cyan was surprised that this impromptu decision to visit Trent yielded his presence so quickly. No reason to try to get his attention through his bedroom window this time.

Cyan didn't speak and threw himself onto Trent's body, colliding into his lips. Trent's body was warm, and Cyan let his hands run down his body as he pressed him down.

When they pulled away, Trent suddenly grabbed his hand.

"You're bleeding, dude!"

"I'm fine," Cyan waved dismissively but Trent was already getting up. They had turned this little shed into a makeshift hangout. They had a ton of blankets on the floor and even a bean bag in the corner. They hung up a string of lights to made the whole place feel a little homier. The tool chest was a bit of an eyesore, but Trent rummaged through it and pulled out some fabric.

"Here, this should do." He gently took Cyan's bleeding hand and wrapped it up tightly. Cyan couldn't help but notice the veins and muscles in Trent's arm pop as he finished wrapping up his hand.

"There, done." Trent sat back down on the floor, still looking concerned. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm alright, just sowing a little chaos back at home."

Trent shook his head. "I wish you wouldn't do that; I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, but I have to." Cyan sat down beside Trent and placed his hand on his knee.

"I get, I promise I do. It's just…"

"It's a lot," Cyan finished for him. Trent sighed in response. Cyan knew his boyfriend didn't enjoy his antics, but right now he just wanted something else.

Cyan threw off his crop-top in a shift motion and took Trent's face in his hands.

"I love you, ya know."

"I know."

Cyan's blood was boiling again, just in a different way. Maybe a better one.

* * *

**Liliana Rolag, 17**

_**District 8, 2 days after the Quell Announcement**_

* * *

Liliana Rolag was just plain tired. Her hands were starting to cramp up from the excessive flipping papers, adding up numbers, and filling out charts. Overall, she didn't mind the work. Numbers and calculations were kind of her thing. That's why she was put in charge of accounting after all.

She worked for the family business, a fairly small tailoring shop that had seen much better days. Business could be better, but it wasn't the absolute worst. In fact, business was a little better considering the shortage of fabrics due to the many factories out of commission.

It happened the day that Peeta Mellark proposed to Katniss Everdeen on live television. The power in that girl. She had no idea what she had started. District 8 turned out in full on rebellion. It had caught Liliana off guard. She had heard the rumblings ever since the lovers pulled out the berries, but she didn't think it would actually happen.

Of course she hated the Capitol. District 8 was not a really a great place to live. It was filled with starving people, overworked children, and countless factory accidents. Liliana considered herself lucky. Because of the shop, she sat comfortably in the middle class. There weren't that many people in the middle class, but those that were happened to be merchants. The lower class labored in the factories and the upper class sat pretty with working with the Capitol to make designer garments. Just recently they had worked on a variety of wedding dresses, all commissioned for the wedding of Katniss and Peeta.

The majority of District 8 was the lower class, and they were ready to take action. And take action they did. They successfully seized control of the District. Peacekeepers were overwhelmed and the people had weapons. It became clear that everything was organized by the factory workers during their long shifts. The middle and upper class were largely out of the loop.

Things seemed hopeful. Then the reinforcements came. The causalities were enormous and then the Capitol rained down the bombs. The rebellion was effectively eliminated, but not before a significant amount of buildings and factories necessary for textile production were destroyed. Production was halted entirely and the lockdown of District 8 began. Everyone was subjected to staying home for a week with no food and barely any water.

Liliana figured this was intended to cripple the lower-class rebels as they had fewer essential goods. She found the whole forced lockdown rather annoying but she couldn't really complain. Her and her family were able to ration out food for the entire week.

After that, the District resumed usual operations. However, production was virtually cut in half. A ton of the usual factory workers were dead, and more were dying on the job after nearly starving to death. There were less essential buildings and less essential everything. Luckily for the Rolags, they had stockpiled a good amount of fabric, which was why their business was being kept alive.

If things couldn't get any worse, one final factory exploded just when things were getting back to normal. A number of Liliana's classmates died. There were just so many people dead and so much wreckage. It was hard to believe the District would ever recover.

Liliana didn't really think it did, and she didn't really think she recovered herself. There were just too many lives lost. Now the citizens were being worked harder than ever and if the Rolags couldn't stay in business, it was off to the factories, or least the few that were left.

And now, the Quarter Quell was looming. Liliana hadn't been alive for a Quarter Quell before, but her parents were. They told her and her brother Kotten about how 48 children went into one of the deadliest arenas of all time. And now the victor was a washed up drunk. Well, maybe not _that_ washed up. He had managed to get both of his tributes out alive.

The Quell twist had to be one of the most ridiculous things the Capitol had ever come up with. Romance? Wasn't the whole Katniss and Peeta thing enough? It seemed like damage control for the berries to her. The odds that that particular Quell would be the one right after a Games centered around a love story were very low. It didn't add up and Liliana Rolag was no fool.

Liliana was pretty confused about how the Quell would work. What was the selection process? Had the Matchmaker already made his Matches? What else did the twist entail? There were two many variables. She hoped that she wouldn't be chosen. She didn't think it would be likely. There were so many kids to choose from, but maybe they'd notice her. She was quite popular after all. She had a pretty good amount of friends, some closer than others and enjoyed the life of the party.

Speaking of which, she really missed her friends and their parties. After the failed rebellion and the amount of people dead, the parties weren't really rolling in. On top of that, regulations had cracked down since then and the good times were not rolling. But tonight, she had hope. There was a party and she couldn't wait to get off her shift to head out.

Before the rebellion broke, Liliana and lot of her friends had a tradition. Every 2 weeks they would head to a park and just have a party. It wasn't really a park as it was a cracked street behind an old factory that had some weeds growing through the cracks. But it was enough.

The tradition had been broken after the lockdown and the bombings and Liliana was ready to party. She hoped they would be able to get away with it. The Peacekeepers were mainly patrolling the resident areas of the lower-class. The majority of Liliana's friends were upper-middle class and occasionally some upper-class people would join the party. It was safe to say that she was excited.

"Hey you're slacking off." Liliana turned her head to the source of the voice. Kotten.

"Oh shove it, you're not even working," she replied with a slight twinkle in her eye. Kotten narrowed his eyes but she could tell it was in a playful spirit. She loved her brother a lot. At only 11 he hadn't had to experience the Reapings yet, but he sure did have to live through the effects of the bombing. If she was being honest, she was quite worried for his well-being.

"I'm only 11!" he said indignantly.

"And that's why you can't come to parties with me." At this, Kotten rolled his eyes.

"Come ON. You promised this time," he whined. He had always wanted to go with her to the parties, but she didn't want her brother coming along. That would be embarrassing as hell. She didn't want people to know she had a vulnerable side. The popular crowd should never be perceived as vulnerable.

She reached out and patted his head in a patronizing manner. "Sorry sport, I've Kott-on to your little schemes." How she loved puns. She saw Kotten's face crack into a smile.

"That one was pretty forced," he huffed, trying to erase his smile with little success.

"Yeah it wasn't my best, but you've heard some of my good ones!"

Kotten sighed. "I guess so." Liliana noticed he looked glum and she almost felt bad for leaving him behind again. Almost.

After the conversation with her brother, the rest of her shift flew by and at sunset it was time to party. Liliana closed up all the accounting books while her parents closed up shop in the front. Her mother was quite the skilled tailor. Her designs were exquisite but she never made it to the big leagues. Her father was pretty strict and would disapprove of her partying escapade in the current climate. She didn't really care though. Safety be damned, it was time for some fun.

Once Kotten went to the front to try to help their parents close up shop, Liliana took her chance. She quickly dashed out the back door of the shop and took off down a nearby alleyway. In this area of District 8 there weren't many patrols. She figured she would be ok.

Her travels were uneventful until she reached some of the bombing wreckage. Seeing it up close was much different than just hearing it. It looked like a blackened pile of metal bones, slightly glinting as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

Liliana shivered a bit and kept going. No need to dwell here. Too many ghosts, too many lives lost. The chill in her bones stayed her until she finally made it to the old factory. It had managed to survive the bombings thanks to it being not in use, but there was a good chance that it might get refurbished for use since so many factories were destroyed.

She made her way around the abandoned factory and smiled when the sounds of chatter filled her ears. Finally. She took off running towards the sounds of laughter. She stopped just before she was in view though. She had to make somewhat of an entrance. Sprinting in all sweaty would be gross. And pretty lame. She composed herself and straightened her hair a bit before working herself into a strut. It was showtime.

As she strutted into the "garden" she noticed the turn-out was much smaller than usual. She couldn't really complain though. At least it was happening.

"Liliana!" a girl called out, waving frantically. Liliana walked a little faster and plowed right into the girl, going in for a hug. She knew she probably looked stupid as hell, but it was worth it. She hadn't seen Sew in so damn long.

Sew patted her on the back and the two broke apart. "Is that a needle in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

"Oh haha, you know my dick would be HUGE if I had one," Liliana replied with a horrid smirk on her face.

"Yeah we would all quake in fear of Liliana Rolag's massive dong!" The two burst out laughing. Sew was definitely Liliana's closest friend. The two got up to a lot of pranks and fun times together before everything got rather serious.

"So what's up, how's the party going," Liliana asked.

"Oh I guess it's going, but not anywhere fast. I was hoping you'd bring up the energy," Sew replied.

"I have my moments."

"Yeah you sure do," came the voice of a newcomer.

"Fleece what's up?" Liliana happily greeted her other friend. Fleece was also pretty close to Sew and herself. He wasn't a huge fan of their antics and wouldn't participate in their pranks but Liliana swore she could see the hint of a smile on his face whenever they got into trouble.

"Well I can tell you what's not up, and it's the energy of this party," he said, gesturing around.

"I was just telling her that!" Sew grabbed Liliana and Fleece by the arm. "Come on, let's go mingle!"

Liliana didn't mind the mingling. Talking and being the center of attention was something she craved. Back at home she was just a plain middle-class girl who liked math. Here, she was really that bitch. And she loved every single second of it.

She traipsed around the various people at the party, talking smack and flashing her smile to let them know it was all in good fun. Sometimes Liliana wasn't sure which side of her was the real her. Was it this party-loving side or the reserved friendly family side? She knew that it was one or the other, there was no way she could be both those people at the same time. Impossible. And so, she kept those lives separate.

Things were going well until the annual game of Truth or Dare came up.

"I dare Sew to...snort that weird spicy drink that Aurora brought," Fleece said gesturing to the blonde girl. Liliana was sort of spellbound by her beauty. Her brilliant blue eyes and blonde curls…she was something else.

Liliana wasn't really sure about her sexuality. She knew she liked boys but…sometimes there was a girl and she would just feel flustered and confused. Liliana still wasn't sure exactly if she liked girls or not. She tried to date a girl once, but like all her relationships, it barely lasted a few weeks.

Liliana blushed a bit after Aurora turned her gaze toward her. She was definitely a member of the upper-class. Sometimes people like Aurora would show up to these things, but never someone who looked as pristine as her. She looked too clean. Maybe it was just the broken landscape that made her stand out. Plus, she had brought some weird spicy drink. It wasn't alcohol but it was something all right. Nobody really drank at the parties, they just tried to gather slightly more expensive food and drink than they would usually consume. Normally they ended up relying on the upper-class people and today Aurora was their savior.

Sew was coughing after trying to snort up some of the spicy liquid. What kind of a dare was that anyway? Eventually the game kept going on and Liliana was suddenly worried that she would get truth and have to answer a question about liking a girl. She knew that that fear made no sense since she could just pick dare, but she was flustered nonetheless.

However, before her turn came Aurora's.

"I think I'll go with truth," she said rather innocently, tapping her finger on her chin.

"Ok, what made you come here tonight? I haven't really seen you around here before?" Sew was looking at Aurora with intense interest. It wasn't even that great of a question really. Liliana was a bit annoyed at Sew. Boring questions didn't make this game fun.

"Hmmmm well, I guess I have to be honest, don't I?" Aurora stood up. Everyone looked around at each other confused. Liliana was just annoyed. Could this girl really be that pretentious? She sure was pretty though.

"The truth is…I came to rout out a potential rebel and I found them." The group went dead silent. Where did this even come from? Liliana's head was whirling when she saw Aurora pull out a cracker with a mockingjay on it. Liliana's brain started to try to make sense of what was happening when the sounds of gunfire cut through the air.

All she knew was that she had to get out of there. Liliana Rolag took off running and didn't look back, more confused than she had ever been in her life.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I enjoyed writing these two a lot and I hope you guys enjoyed reading them. I do apologize if the backstory heavy POVs are a little hard to get through, I just find it easier to put all the cards on the table so I can really get into their characters and relationship in the pre-Games. **

**Also, a lot of world-building this chapter. I got away with it for D4 but I wanted to include it here since D8 rebelling is such a significant point in canon. **

**Thanks to the submitters, and if you have any complaints about my portrayal of them, please let me know so I can fix it for their next POV! **

**Oh and btw, thank you to everyone who is reviewing. It really means so much to me. It's just affirming to know that people are actually reading. Special thanks to Linds, Zack, Matt, and 20 for reviewing the last chapter. **

**I think that's all for now, we'll be seeing the D10 couple next and then we'll be halfway done with the intros FINALLY. **

**Are you #teamLYAN?**


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